


Defeat

by remanth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel War, Defeat, angel factions, season nine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remanth/pseuds/remanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel must make a decision about his own role in the angelic factions. But which is the right way and which the wrong when he's only been met with defeat before?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defeat

Defeat.

That was the strongest thing Castiel felt as he turned the blade and drove it into Bartholomew’s chest. He didn’t want to kill anymore of his brothers, contribute even further to the death and destruction of his family. Hard on the heels of defeat was a deep, abiding sorrow and a tired, nearly burnt-out fury. Why was it so hard for them to understand? Why couldn’t they just _stop_? They were family and there were so few of them left anymore. Killing each other should not be an option.

Sighing, Castiel slipped his blade back up into the sleeve of his trenchcoat, letting it fade into the pocket of nothingness that the blade inhabited until he needed it. Giving Bartholomew’s vessel one quick, sad look, Castiel walked to the doorway and the two angels standing guard. They stared, dumbfounded and awestruck, at him and Castiel felt his entire being cringe. He’d never wanted to be a god or a leader or someone the others looked up to. The choices he’d made trying to do the right thing had always seemed to push him into those roles. While Castiel had never meant for any of it to happen, he’d always shouldered the burden as best he could.

“Let me pass,” Castiel told the two angels, quietly and calmly. They stepped aside without a qualm, the one in the younger vessel staring after him with obvious hero-worship. That was the downside of having a reputation, of being a larger-than-life figure to his brethren: they expected miracles even though you yourself knew that what you had done before was no miracle. Merely a mistake. No other angel impeded Castiel’s journey through the building. After all, if he was moving about of his own free will, he was on Bartholomew’s side, right?

Castiel felt bile rising up in his vessel’s throat, a strange burning that he’d come to know as a human. Before his fall, Castiel had understood the mechanics behind many human actions but not the visceral feeling. This one was brought on by the horror at what he’d just done and the dread and resignation that maybe this was one thing he just couldn’t fix. A destination popped into his mind and Castiel determinedly made his way there. Not being able to fly was annoying but he’d dealt with it before.

“I am sorry,” Castiel said to the image of the smiling woman on the grave. “You didn’t ask to be drawn into our battles. I mourn your loss just as much as the loss of my sister. You should have been left alone to live your life with your family.”

Castiel smiled sadly down at the grave, feeling the loss of the unknown human as he felt his sister’s. This was something the angels didn’t quite understand, something a few seemed to not _want_ to understand. Sighing again, Castiel felt a hand land on his shoulder. No one should know where he was. In a flash, he wiped the gentle expression off his face before turning to face whatever danger was behind him.

“Hello, Castiel,” an angel said, smiling at him in joy. “You told us to choose. And we have. We choose you.”

Defeat threaded through Castiel again, defeat and tired anger. _Why_ couldn’t they understand? He was the last person they should be following. But two more angels stepped up behind the first, expectant and hopeful smiles on their faces. They were all so lost, thrown down to Earth without even knowing why and then struggling to find vessels. And a purpose. Yet again, duty and compassion surged within him. Look at the mess the factions had made battling against each other. Who knew how many angels killed because they didn’t agree with one angel or another. They all needed to go home and Heaven needed to be re-ordered. And perhaps Castiel might be the only angel able to, having lived as a human and understanding so many things alien to his brothers and sisters.

Squaring his shoulders, Castiel met the eyes of his family and made a decision. While he didn’t know yet whether it was the right one or the wrong one, it _was_ a decision. Sitting out of this mess wouldn’t solve anything. But whenever he’d tried to step in before, chaos had reigned and hundreds had died. Yet, a decision had to be made. And if Castiel could save even one of his brethren, that had to be enough to make the decision the right one, wouldn’t it?


End file.
